


A Built-In Remedy

by wordwinx



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Dream Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Public Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:19:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2000064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordwinx/pseuds/wordwinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How on earth does he do that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Built-In Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> No story here just Adam inside his own head, seducing his first love . . . the stage.

Adam dug his platform heel into the violet upholstery and arched backward, careful to spread his wing so the fringe of his leather harness draped dramatically over the edge of the chaise onto the floor. His head lolled over the end where his feet should be. In one fluid motion, Adam rolled his spiky shoulder and lifted his hip in a way that sort of scooched his buttocks further down. The leg that bent, he extended into the air high above the curvy back rest and brought it down again nice and slow, scissor-style to meet his other long, long leg at the ankle. Finally comfy, Adam licked his lips. The tip of his tongue appeared only briefly then hid again behind a satisfied grin. He closed his eyes and waited for his cue. 

The guitar riff sounded far away while the same two measures of clunky keys - dank dank dank dank / dank dank dank dank, prompted the first verse. (Silly bastard. Don’t forget the fucking lyric.) Adam’s good sense had a distinct British accent lately – not cross, just mocking as thousands upon thousands of eyes burned hotter than the spotlights upon his face. The music itself became dimmer and more distant in Adam’s ears. Beyond the hushed anticipation of the arena was a single note sustained only by an echo and the crowd’s indefinite wonder. Suspended in time, Adam floated atop the waves of sound somewhere between real life and fantasy. The energy vibrated deep within his core and aroused his other voice, a lower voice commanding him in head-to-head telepathy with two words, “Have me.”

Adam rolled over. He gripped the scrollwork frame at its lowest point and pulled himself onto his stomach. The harness went taut and bit at the middle of his back. He hissed. His breath left tiny droplets upon the surface of the velvet, and Adam nuzzled into the damp patch as if it were the close-shaved muzzle of his lover. His tongue darted out reflexively, flicking the nap of the fabric. He flexed his thighs and ground into the cushion. Adam rocked side to side savoring the pressure on his fly then pumped with abandon until the chaise itself stutter stepped on uncertain legs. Adam reared up on his knees, his pants desperately clung to his body then broke open. Adam sat back wedging a studded heel between his cheeks. He gasped and proceeded to jerk his fist up and over the head of his cock until he came in an arc high into the air like a decadent fountain of triumph. An audible, "Ha" escaped his lips and the spell was broken.

Adam opened his eyes. He splayed a gilded fan in front of his face and batted his lashes in mischief, wondering if they knew what he was thinking. (You hapless bugger, that’s your fucking cue!) DANK DANK DANK DANK / DANK DANK DANK DANK - Adam smirked. “She keeps a Moet & Chandon in a pretty cabinet. Let them eat cake, she said, just like Marie Antoinette . . .” The crowd cheered, laughed, and growled lustfully all at once while Adam kicked his feet like a naughty child denying as always the questions of his conscience.


End file.
